The Raven
by Panoramic Demon
Summary: If there is one thing you should know about me, I would prefer to not have a past. Yet no matter how hard I try its something that will forever haunt me. My life did't involve any of it, until now. Besides, what can anyone do when your father is one of the most wanted men in the U.S? Nothing. There is nothing to do, besides run. From the past and present. Please R
1. Prologue

Prologue

When I stopped feeling the pain, I was more than positive that I was already dead. I just happened to still feel my heart getting weaker as I stared into the pool of red that seemed to look deeper and more welcoming as time went on. I fought to keep my eyes open, knowing what I knew now I would have done everything in my life differently so it wouldn't have lead me to the truth.

I would rather have been shrouded by lies that protected me than be laying here suffering. The metallic smell of the blood dulled, and the warmth it brought against my cooling body's was welcoming, making me wish it would engulf me and drown me since I was already finding comfort in deaths arms.

The truth caused this suffering, and right now I wanted the events to all stop replaying, and I wanted the words he spoke out of my head. He threw me out into the road after he found out who I was, it wasn't who I was that bothered him the most.

It was the fact I survived.

And the fact I would survive.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

_Two Months Earlier_

_I never slept. Nightmares have haunted me since my early foster home life, part of witch I couldn't remember. When I did sleep, I would wake up soon after, and my throat would always ache from all the screaming I did._

_ I have been to all sorts of specialist, spent tons of money on medication, but nothing toped the night terrors from occurring. No one knew why they were occurring, or why I could remember anything past the age of 6._

_ I don't even remember my first foster family, or the ones after._

_ I stopped trying medication and gave up on doctors, no one was able to help me get past whatever caused these nightly occurrences._

_ I stared out the window for a while, watching the sun rise over the Haven port before turning and walking into the kitchen, the T.V. Was on in the living room. I heard my roommate crank up the volume and stopped as words that haunted everyone in the city echoed through the apartment._

_ "Yesterday was the anniversary of the haven port tragedy, a year has passed since the horrors of Joe Carroll's cult haunted the city. Last night five are confirmed dead in the subway murders with an announcement from masked men chanting 'Joe Carroll Lives' and 'Resurrection'. Now the only question citizens have is if this is true, or if this is the cult's chant and show performance for their fallen leader."_

_ I turned my attention to the living room slowly walking around the table to see over the breakfast bar. I ignored the jib jab of the anchors over their thoughts and feelings over the five people killed._

_ I was lost in the thought of hoping that this was just the cult's last and final hoo-ra after the finale they gave last year when Joe was declared dead. Lost in my thought I didn't turn my attention back to the T.V. when I heard the all too familiar voice of Ryan Hardy's._

_ "My thoughts and prayers go out to the victims of the Subway murders, however I am uninvolved with this case and won't be involved with this case any longer."_

_ I sat on the couch as my roommate, Ashlyn, spoke._

_ "That's they guy that lectures your class, right?"_

_ I took a drink of my coffee trying to shake the tense feeling I had "Lectured. I'm part of the F.B.I. now. I do not know why you keep forgetting. Or how you keep forgetting."_

_ "You sound worried."_

_ I stood and handed her the cup. "Yeah, I am. Like I said I'm part of the F.B.I. Who do you think handles these crimes?"_

_ She looked at me "The police."_

_ "Not just them. But the F.B.I."_

To think I would allow myself to be sitting here now in this situation bothered me. The live stream Joe sent out to the world bothered me. Yet it left me pondering how people could be so strong yet so vulnerable all at once.

All people like Joe did was continue to contradict themselves throughout their lives. But I'm not much of one to speak, I contradict myself as well, more so than your advanced sociopath killer.

I attempted to calm my beating heart as the truck started moving, what I had done was go out on my own, undercover, trying to find the twins and Lily Gray. I knew lily was dead, but the twins just seemed to have had their finale, and from what I could hear the driver say from the bed of the pickup, one of them was dead.

The bug I had planted in the car was not great, I could only pick out bits and pieces of the conversation, but from what I had gathered he had been contacted by mark. The ride was slow and bumpy, and I wasn't sure what would happen if I rolled or moved in the trunk, or if he would even notice.

I fell asleep most of the ride, and woke up when the truck came to a stop. I heard a door open, and my body natural froze as I listened to the conversation.

"I didn't know who else to call."

I laid there as the door shut and the car began moving once more. I was about to fall asleep again, when suddenly I found myself through to the other side of the truck bed, and a sharp pain shot up my right leg.

I couldn't not cry out, as much as I wanted to remain silent the truck skidded to a stop cause the breath taking pain to shoot up my leg once more. I hissed as I pulled my gun from my pocket and slid to the end of the truck bed, waiting for the guy to open it.

Light suddenly poured into the darkness and I was yacked out of the vehicle and thrown to the ground, the bug and tracker I had planted were tossed next to me.

I got to my feet and held my gun up staring Mark in the eyes.

My blood froze. I lunged and took my pistol and hit him in the side of the head with the butt of my gun.

All he did was laugh as he fell to the ground, I didn't allow it to stop me from delivering a sharp kick into his chest, leaving him to fall completely over o the ground.

"Where's your brother Mark?" I pointed my gun as him, ignoring the sharp pain in my side. His smile was a smile that could send chills down anyone's spine.

He laughed and stayed on the ground "I thought we killed you."

"Just answer the question you sick fuck, my beef is with both of you. Where is Luke."

"He is in the car sleeping."

"To hell he is. Is he dead?"

That triggered something in him, it caused the stone cold killer to be seen as he lunged at me. I stepped to the side and shot him in the leg, watching him topple over on the ground with a loud cry.

"So Luke is dead, that means all I have to is get rid of you." I walked over and kicked him in the side with the metal toe of my boots. "You have to be the sickest, twisted, fucker I ever encountered in my life."

I was getting ready to shoot when all the sudden I felt a sharp pain in my shoulder, causing me to black out for a second, laughing echoed in my ears as I Felt myself toppling and rolling down the side of the hill off the side of the rode.

I finally hit something hard, and forgot whatever came after that, and unwillingly allowed the blackness engulf me.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

I woke up to what was once a gray cloudy day, which turned into dark storm clouds as time passed. My throat was dry and my right side hurt like hell, I thanked god that the sun wasn't shining because my head throbbed every time I moved it.

I slowly sat up and pulled off my jacket and willed myself to lean over and pull my pocket knife out of my boot. I'm sure what was really only about five minutes of cutting at the sleeve of my jacket, but those five minutes felt like eternity. I knew that the wet ground beneath me was equivalent to mud made of sweat and blood that came from the gash both in my side and thigh.

Getting on my feet was another struggle, climbing the hill side was just as bad. About a fourth or a mile up I found my gun, and picked it up, slowly shoving it in the back of my pants. I held the jacket on my bleeding side and slowly trudged my way up the hill to the road I fell from.

Rather than the fast paced speed of events that occurred on the road, I forced myself to gather every detail I could in my mind. I'm sure to any passerby that saw me here would stop and ask if I needed a ride, but I needed to bask in my own failure of taking too long to end what the Twins had started in my life.

I took too long. Mark escaped. And on top of it all Luke was dead, and he was the one who tried to kill me after they had murdered my sister. The plates were taped over on the truck when I had been pulled out of the bed. The model was a Chevy Avalanche, and I had the plate number one a piece of paper in my pocket that was fake, and would be little to no help to me or anyone else who could find this guy.

Not only that but since I was tossed down a hill I didn't know what direction they left in.

I felt useless at this point. Part of me was angry at everything I caused by sliding to the other side of the truck where the bag of knifes were, but I was also upset that I didn't take my chance to kill Mark and end all the mental suffering I had to endure every day of my life.

I still had nightmares about that night. Too much has happened within the last two months for me to wrap my mind around my life and what I was becoming.

Hell if I didn't know any better I would say I was becoming like my biological father. It wouldn't be a lie if I chose to think of it the way it really was 50% of the time. I pressed the jacket to my bleeding side and began to limp down the side of the road, hoping to find a town not far from here, or some type of gas station.

Car passed me like I was nothing for about a mile, and when no signs of life or a small gas station didn't come in sight, I sat down knowing my leg couldn't take much more than it already had. All I really needed was to know where I was so I could call a Taxi.

I couldn't even depend on the kindness of people, the world was falling apart along with mine as well. I held out my hand, trying to ignore the growing and numbing sensation of the pain.

Minutes began to feel like hours with each aching step I took, I was willing myself not to pass out. Right when I thought My body was going to finally give in, I dizzily held up my thumb for the next car that passed that screeched to a halt.

A young guy stepped out of the car, I forced my voice to be steady ignoring his questions. I was honestly to light headed to process what he was saying or asking.

With confidence and pure will, I spoke steadily "Can you drive me to a pay phone? I need to make a call."

"What you need is help!"

I couldn't help it, I was forcing myself to be strong for to long as I shivered slightly "I-I just need to make a call."

So much for confidence. I sounded like a scared little kid. Even though I masked my thoughts with a false sense of power I let myself see how bad of shape I was in, and it _did _scare me. I wasn't sure what I should do.

I started wobbling. The man steadied my arm and said "Hey, we are going to go get you help. Then you can make that call."

Then like the hill, darkness engulfed me.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_"Dad? What are you doing?"_

_ "Don't worry my dear, just go back upstairs now."_

_ "Where is mom? And I heard crying. Are you okay?"_

_ "Your mother is at the store, the crying is probably just your imagination."_

_ "I need to get in there."_

_ "You can't right now, your birthday present is in there."_

_ "I'm 16, I thought we got past the small gifts. I seriously just need some more shampoo."_

_ "Can it wait?"_

_ "What do you have to hide that is that important?"_

_ His temper spiked "GET OUT!"_

_ Rather than letting the fear get to me I ran past him and flung the door open, only to be greeted by bright lights and the color red splattered across the walls. I vomited. A hand. An arm. _

_ Brown Eyes_

_ My eyes._

_ Then everything caved in on me, and the darkness collapsed in on me, leaving it hard for me to breathe until my breath went away completely. _


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I shot up in bed yelping in both pain and shock, the room I was in was dark and a soft monitor beep with each pump of my heart. I felt queasy as I came to realization of where I was.

I was in a hospital.

My heart rate spiked and I ripped the chords off my chest, listening to the machine flat line. I wasn't attacked to any IVs, thank god, needles and I have never been on a friendly note, of any kind.

I never show the fear, but I feel it. For a lot of things.

I heard phones ringing and footsteps in the hall, and I walked over to the cabinet and opened it, praising that all my items, including my clothes had been placed there. I striped out of the nightgown, examine the bandages that covered my right thigh, I knew there had to be stiches under it. Before I slowly got dressed and checked my bag. The only thing that was missing was my gun.

Figures.

However, my knife was still in my boot, as well as the three hunting knifes and ammo in my bag. I guess it didn't occur to them to check my bag if I had a gun. I grabbed a small makeup bag and took and few twenty's from it before placing tossing it back in my bag. I slipped on my hoodie and pulled the hood up, and pulled my boots on and over my jeans before looking in the mirror on my way out of the room.

I looked like Hell. My bright auburn dyed curls were in tangles. Not only that, I stank to high heaven. I needed to find a hotel to stay at, after I picked up some more hair dye at a store, along with a pair of scissors.

I turned and walked from the room and walked down the hallway. I pulled the hood of my jacket over my head and stepped on the elevator, careful not to look at any of the cameras as I stepped in. I pressed the button to go to the top floor, hopefully I would find a way to the roof, then a ladder that lead off the building. If I could avoid going through any of the exit doors I could possibly make myself harder to trace.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator I asked politly where the stair were, and followed the direction the nurse pointed me in, careful not to limp my way completely to the other end of the hall. I opened the door into the stair well and slowly went up the staircase before opening the door to the roof.

I stepped outside into the sunlight and walked around the edge looking for a escape ladder, eventually finding one. I tossed my bag onto the platform and slowly steped my way down.

The only things that I could think about was how I failed at killing the person who killed my sister. I felt a dull pain swell in my chest as I dwindled on the fact that I could have killed him, yet all I did was let my anger get to me.

I should have been better than that, but sadly, part of me that I kept hidden deep down knew I wasn't. Somewhere in me I was just scared of where the life I was getting could possibly get me. I finally landed on the ground crying out as pain ripped through my leg, laying there before I pulled myself up and walked down the alley and into the street.

I turned and looked up to the emergency entrance to the hospital and say a pair of blue eyes meet mine.

The blond haired man pointed "There she is!"

I did the one thing I could think to do, which was run, not even paying attention to who the guy was, ignoring the fact this was the man that picked me up on the side of the highway, the guy that I passed out so face in front of I couldn't even process who he was or who he looked like.

I threw myself over the chain link fence, and felt the air from my lungs leave when I landed flat on my back. I was struggling for air as I attempted to shakily pull myself up. But by then, I was surrounded by cops, Blondie being one of them.

Rather than threating me, they were holding their hands up, as if to calm me down like I was a scared animal. All I wanted to do was leave, if my gun was missing that alone could be pawed off to pay for my stiches by someone,

I had no desire to be forced to go back.

Just then Blondie introduced himself flashing a shiny badge "I'm agent Weston, I picked you up last night and I was told I needed to bring you into the station for questioning."

"I don't talk to cops."

"I'm FBI."

"I'm guessing you're trying to figure out who I am?"

He frowned, I saw frustration on his face and I merely put my hands higher in the air in surrender.

"I haven't done anything wrong." I stated.

"I never said you did."

"Then why do I need to be questioned."

"Someone injured you. You want to tell me who?"

"Maybe over coffee and some food. Real coffee and real food, not the mush in the hospital."

He smiled slightly as if I was joking, yet all I was trying to do at the moment was calm myself down and watched as everyone else relaxed, I put my arms down.

"If you can come in and answer a few questions, I can arrange that."

After the long ride to the NYPD station with a stop for coffee and a hamburger from hole in the wall place, I was plotting what I would say to any of the possible questions they could have.

I knew I couldn't, not matter what, give them my real name. The disaster that would cause would only drive me over the edge I barley hold onto on a daily basis anyways. I sighed and Weston let me out of the car and led me inside. It was hours of waiting until I was finally lead into a room with a two way mirror.

I wasn't sure what I should think at this point. So I sat, and I stared at the table, pondering on the events of the past couple of days, shuddering at the thought of the dream I had and tried to block out the rest of the event from my mind.

It was a night I still didn't understand, and was one I had night terrors about. I was a fucking grown adult and still suffered night terrors like a two year old. The worst ones were the ones I couldn't wake up from.

I shook the thought from my head and placed my hands on the table, and turned and looked at Weston as he strolled in and sat down in front of me, confident and cool as he forced his blue eyes onto mine.

"What's your name? Your real one, not these bullshit aliases you carry. You had at least five different drivers' licenses in your stupid bag when I took the gun."

"I really wish I could tell you. But if I did you would lock me up in a mental hospital just because of the name I hold."

"You have a second legal name I can call you by?"

I folded my arms over my chest and frowned "Jess."

"That's not a full name."

"That's the nickname I earned for my legally changed name. But if I gave that to you, I'm sure you would dig because of the way you found me. You might know me as the FBI agent that just kind of…. Vanished."

His eyes narrowed and he studied my carefully.

"That agent is dead."

"That was a hoax. The body was still presumed as a Jane Doe, with enough evidence to be considered the Agents body based on her last location and hypothetical clues that were found. The case is cold."

He leaned back and studied me carefully. "Fine, Jess it is. You can give me your full name later."

Jess wasn't even my real full name, it was the identity that I stole from a dead person back when I was 16 and had used so long that it stuck like glue. It was my final fall back to the point that it would even pull up my photo when looked up rather than a senile old person.

I sat back in my seat as he sighed and looked at me.

"Who were your parents?"

I flinched and made a rather undistinguished noise that was cross between many emotions, few being repulse and fear, and that of sadness and confusion.

"I don't know." My tough girl act vanished as my voice faltered. I looked down and covered my ears, and I forced myself to breath, trying not to think about the struck nerve that bothered me on a nightly basis.

"Are you okay?" He even looked worried as I sat there, panicking that I would have another panic attack, which hadn't happened to me in years. Too much had happened to me the past few days for me to be asked this question, fuck the past few months had the night terrors brewing to a whole new level of awful for me.

I felt him get up and leave and I watched him walk out the door as my eyes followed him. I felt helpless and alone.

What no one knew was who I was, I didn't even know who I was. I suffered from to many things to be considered stable and faked my way through life.

Why? Because I couldn't remember my past. Dreams were my memories in snippets. Everything remained a blur until my stress levels were high enough to leave me in a pool of sweat and gripping the sheets like I was having the greatest time of my life face down, what people didn't know though was that there wasn't a guy that was cause the screams, and that the screams weren't blissful, rather they were that of pain, suffocation, and sheer horror.

I guess what really sucked, was that my stress levels were doing nothing but increasing.

I heard chatter through the glass and looked up, processing anything I could do to get out of this situation, and hoping to get their attention I spoke, forcing myself to be calm once more.

"Help me."

* * *

Okay, So This is a story I am officially committed to finishing, but I also would lover for it to be, well... Perfect.  
So if ANYONE finds grammar errors, places where things don't make since, please, let me know. Also, I am very open to ideas with this Fic.  
Please feel free to throw them out there, I have already had a couple throw out at me, and moments of inspiration for character development as well.  
Weston's P.O.V is the next chapter, I honestly can't wait to write that, its probably going to be the longest chapter in the story, but in Order for my Unknown O.C. to develop I need to put the whole bleeding on the side of the rode and Hospital incident in his perspective for the grounds of there err..relationship.

I have free time so next chapter should be up VERY soon.

Also, I am working on a playlist for this story.

Please R & R


	6. Chapter 5

So its been awhile, due to AP testing and finals at school... But I am finally updating on my first official day of summer, and should be updating again VERY soon. Enjoy.

* * *

Chapter 5

Walking through the streets of Havenport was eerie before and after Joe. Yet because the memory was fresh through all minds here, it kept everyone on edge. I walked each limp led me closer to my new apartment, where maybe I could finally rest.

Maybe Mike would stop following me.

He knew I was not the FBI agent that vanished, through them for a loop, and did whatever I could to escape the rest of the questioning. I even went as far as to weep, gave them a very fake yet realistic background, then proceeded to have a mental breakdown that forced me back into the hospital. The second escape was more successful, considering I paid all my fees, got all my items and left before the cop got Hardy or Weston to come ask the rest of their questions.

I entered my apartment building and punched the elevator button. As soon as the doors opened I closed them, watching as Mike entered the building. He never followed me to my apartment, so knowing he hadn't caught up with me gave me some sanity that I wouldn't have to talk. Since Mark was more important on their hit list if they couldn't catch up with me somewhere other than here they left me alone.

They didn't know Mark was important to me also, or that was the man who had broke my arm and tore holes in my side and leg. They also didn't know that I was planning on killing him. They didn't know my name, my history, they knew nothing. I was safe. They thought I was crazy and thats all.

I stepped out of the elevator and turned, only to be greeted by dirty blond hair and cold angry blue eyes. I sighed.

"You never let us finish questioning you. You know we could arrest you for having a fake I.D.? In fact i'm debating on it."

I just stood there and then spoke calmly. "You are in my way."

His jaw clenched and his eyes filled with nothing but frustration "I chose not to arrest you, you know. For the I.D.s the lieing to us, the weapons. Everything. I told Ryan not to and said we had more important things to worry about. Everything about you is so FUCKED up and weird yet I told him to drop it."

"You haven't though. You keep stalking me."

His eyes narrowed and he grunted and I shrugged "Well you keep following me and stuff so…"

I moved to go around him but he grabbed my wrist and forced me to turn and face him "Noon. Tomorrow. At the coffee shop across the street. Or i will come arrest you."

I jerked my arm away from him and sneered, "Why not just do that now?"

He smirked slightly, yet still managed to look extremely pissed off "Your little acts intrigued me. I want to know what you're hiding, if anything, or if you are just some crazy person."

With that he turned away, and I did nothing but stand there and watch him walk away.

Looks like I was meeting him at the coffee shop tomorrow.

Westons P.O.V.

I sat in front of the T.V. in my house in a rather stupid attempt to stop my curiosity from engulfing me. She put on this mask of insanity the moment we caught her, acted bipolar, then attempted to vanish.

The moment I knew it was an act was when I mentioned her parents, whom we still knew nothing about, and we still didn't have a name for her that wasnt fake. We just had a face of a person whose eyes were hollowed from hate and anger, and a rather strong will to live and run.

Ryan wasn't to worried about it, however when the anger grew at the mention of her parents I wanted to know _everything._ It almost pissed me off how she slipped through the cracks so easily since we were still consumed with Mark and Joe. On a scale of importance compared to everything else in my life and job, she should be nothing, she should be in the negatives. But I was drawn into figuring out what she was hiding.

I wasn't going to stop until I figured out. Whatever free time I had I was going to find out.

Maybe all this was was me needing a distraction from what I was becoming, or maybe it was just me being impulsive, but I was going to act on it no matter what.

I closed my eyes and leaned my head back. Tomorrow. I would find out tomorrow. I would find out about why she was on the side of the road, I would find out her name, I would figure out why she held in so much hate.

Then maybe I would be okay. Maybe then, this hate and curiosity I held would go away. Maybe everything would get better.

But my gut said it would only get worse.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

_"__Annabell. Come here, sweet heart." I stiffened at the sweet cooing sound of my mothers voice, yet even with its melody and lightness, anyone could tell her tone was slightly worried. And to me that only let me know one thing. It let me know that my father was back._

_There romance was one of tears and abuse, yet it was like that was what they needed to thrive. They were in ways each others soul mates, and in other ways each others worst nightmare. Both were obsessed and both were artist in writing and painting, in a way there love for eachother was nothing more than a star crossed rivalry that would do nothing but constantly end in tragedy. _

_I got up, putting down my journal on my bed before tensely making my way down the stairs. I stopped as his arm snaked around my mother's waist and she extended her left arm out to show me the large diamond that sparkled on her ring finger._

_"__Isn't it beautiful Annabel? Your father and I are finally going to get married… It's lovely isn't it?"_

_I shut my eyes and focused on not throwing up, I opened them to receive a happy and slightly worried twinkle in my mothers eyes and a cold hard stare from my father._

_I never liked either of them, and I always feared them together. I prayed for this to never happen knowing I would have to fake my happiness for the sake of my own life._

_I choked out and forced myself to smile. "It is, mom. Congrats."_

_Suddenly his thick husky english accent sent chills to my core and caused more nausea to roll throughout me. "Is something wrong, darling?"_

_I closed my eyes and shook my head, "I just don't feel well. I haven't for awhile."_

_"__You need rest then. Right Joe?"_

_His hard gaze left mine as he smiled down at my mother, it was a cold and unloving smile, but I knew that wasn't what my mom saw, she saw love, she would never know how fake it was. Or how fake this whole family was._

_"__Thats right my dear. Annabell, go get some rest. Me and your mother have a wedding to plan."_

_I simply nodded and turned dragging myself up the stairs, dizzy from nausea and the thoughts and fear of what was to come._

I woke up clutching the bed sheets in a pool of sweat. I shuddered and slowly pulled myself up, ripping off the damp shirt I had on.

I got out of bed and took of the remainder of the sweat drenched clothes and walked to the bathroom, unable to will the trembles to stop. I started the shower and stood in front of the mirror closing my eyes to the sound of running water. Steam began to fill the small space, and my trembles began to cease as I slowly walked into the shower.

I stood there with my eyes closed and allowed the hot water to cover my body, to relax me. The water never soothed me entirely, rather it served as a reminder.

Brutality and standing at deaths door constantly was never good for the human mind, not letting my irrational fear of water get to me and forcing myself to relax let me know that I still had full control. It let me know that my world, my life, wasn't spinning out of control. It reminded me to think, to process, and to act.

I opened my eyes and turned off the shower then leaned against the wall, allowing my cheek press against the cold tile.

_"Annabell Lee Carroll. That's a perfect name for a beautiful girl. But you aren't that beautiful are you?"_

_"No, Joe. I'm not."_

I pulled myself away from the wall gritting my teeth as I stepped out of the shower and grabbed my towel, promptly wrapping myself in it. I was on edge, that was never a good thing. Reliving it wasn't a good thing.

I shook my head and focused on getting ready. It was 11:45 A.M. and I was expected to meet Mike at noon.

I arrived at the coffee shop across the street from my home at exactly 12:07, greeted by "Agent" Weston waiting for me on the patio.

I smiled at him, a sad attempt at a warm greeting when he sat the cuffs down on the table, glared at me coldly, the nodded towards the seat across from him.

I merely sighed before seating myself and crossing my legs then spoke softly, "Ask away."

He glared. "No lies."

"No lies. I promise."

He leaned forward and folded his hands on the table. "So far we have found a total of 25 fake names on you. Jessica, Molly, Nicki, Jesse, Sally, so on and so forth. Who needs that many Fake names?"

I squirmed. It was unintentional and showed my vulnerability. "I need them. If you knew me then you would understand, and for your sake I would stop digging."

"You must have something big to hide to ask for me to stop. And since I don't know you, why don't you tell me about yourself. Starting with your real name."

"How about we order coffee. It would be a rather long story for us to sit through without something to drink."

"After you give me your name."

I glared. This man was relentless. "Agent Weston, I can't just t-"

"Mike. Call me Mike. And your name?"

His blue eyes were filled with frustration, his frustration was only leaving me agitated and worried wondering what I should do.

"Alica. Call me Alica."

My legally changed name. I just gave him my legally changed name.

After I left here I would have to leave immediately, to another state, another country. My genetics could cause this to explode unwillingly and my life would continue to revolve around nothing but hate towards him. That was something I didn't need.

Weston smiled slightly. "Sit tight Alica, I'll go buy us some drinks."

I nodded and then placed both hands on the table fidgeting with a sugar packet.

Why did my father have to be Joe Carroll?


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Weston's P.O.V.

Alica. Another generic name. Yet my gut told me that she wasn't lying to me this time. Which surprised me, if I could get her full name I could get her full background. Then this girl would be out of my life, and my curiosity could be directed elsewhere.

I grabbed the two cups of coffee and walked outside and sat the coffee down in front of her. She sat up and grabbed it and for once allowed her brown eyes to meet mine.

I guess what cause my curiosity with her was how I could see myself in her somewhat. The hollowed of hurt and anger. But towards what? I sat down and adjusted myself.

"So your name is Alica?"

"Yes."

Her answer was simple, she seemed agitated with my persistence, frustrated and worried even. I sighed, and continued to push forward.

"What's your full name?"

"Alica Raven Astra."

I just looked at her before speaking softly "Raven?"

"I came up with the name myself. It was good for communication among my few contacts and friends. Im referred to as Ace, A, or if its a emergency, The Raven." She looked at me, she was on guard but not tense.

"The Raven? Like, Edgar Allen Poe?"

She pinched her lips together and nodded, "Yes. Like Edgar Allen Poe."

"Why?" Now I was even more intrigued, and I could tell she saw the gears turning, she saw me playing connect the dots. She rubbed her temple and shut her eyes.

"All I had to read when I was a kid was _The complete tales and poems from Edgar Allen Poe. _I always admired his poem _The Raven _and memorized every line of it, analyzed it, wrote a story based around it. I even did a project on it in school way back when, and on Poe himself. Considering I didn't have any other books to read, it… preoccupied me. Helped me get through life knowing someone from the past had it worse than me or most people. And in very few ways I could relate to. I admired his work just like some people admire mine, considering it was the only thing I had to absorb myself in other than writing or drawing."

"How does one only have one book?"

"When one's family is extremely poor. And its the only christmas gift you ever got."

I nodded and just stared at her before speaking softly "Why does it sound like you bitterly hate him now? Poe, I mean."

She sighed and spoke softly, below a whisper even as if the words were bitter and would reveal more than needed. "When the work was twisted and disrespected."

She twirled her coffee cup in her hand as I sat there processing everything she just said. She was talking about Joe, She was talking about Joe and the first time he escaped.

She froze and lifted her coffee cup and studied something on the side of it. She froze. Her face flushed in panic and she looked around. She looked at me and then spoke softly. "We need to leave."

"What is it."

She stood and pulled her hood up over her head. "Now."

Suddenly the girl that made the coffee for us walked up to her and smiled gently "Is there a problem here?"

Alica froze and smiled softly holding out her coffee to the women "Yeah can you read the note on the side of the cup?"

The women took the cup slowly, and turned the cup in her hand, not breaking eye contact with Alica and spoke softly "_I know you are alive"_

I stood up and grabbed the cup from the lady and spoke quietly "Get back to work, okay?"

The women smiled at me and then smiled at Alica and spoke "Will do sir, enjoy your coffee."

I grabbed my coffee and Alica by the arm, and spoke softly "What the hell was that."

She looked at me and the spoke softly "If we don't leave now we will both get hurt."

"What do you mean."

"Move now, ask questions later." She took the drinks and threw them away. and pulled her hoodie over her head, quickly walking away from the coffee shop, I got up and quickly followed behind her as she turned down an ally. She squatted and put her head between her knees. Her breathing was erratic and heavy, she stopped me from touching her as she slowly stood. Her breathing was still heavy as she leaned over and braced herself by placing her hands on her knees.

"Alica…"

She stood and looked at me, and laughed slightly "Can you trust me for two seconds. Iv told you the truth so far."

I shook my head and just looked at her, this girl had built her life around lies, that much I knew, but the way she acted two minutes ago I could tell she was protecting herself. Her lies _were _her protection. But protection from what. "How about we just get you out of here for now…"

She shook her head and laughed slightly "Crazy bitch back at the coffee shop tried to kill us Weston."

"Really now?" Maybe she was the crazy one.

She shook her head "Don't. Trust me." She pulled her coffee lid from her pocket, wrapped in a napkin that was wet from the coffee and condensation on the underside of the lid.

"You will figure this out. But promise me you won't tell anyone. Get this tested. She was trying to poison us. Its confusing now, but any question you have after this I will answer, I will tell you _everything. _But please… trust me first."

She pulled a pen out of her pocket and scribbled down and phone number and address on my palm before I could protest and spoke. "Trust me and then I will trust you. Gears are already turning for you Weston. I could tell. And now there isnt a point for me to run because I am going to need help. But when you figure it out, don't tell anyone. Ryan is the exception."

"What makes Ryan the exception?"

"Both of you come to that hotel and I will explain."

"Explain what?"

She pulled her hoodie over her head and shoved her hands in her pockets.

"Everything. Everything about me."

With that she turned and walked away. Back down to the coffee shop then across the street to the apartment building. I turned looked at the lid in my hand, and attempted to process everything that happened.

From the night I found her till now, everything she said and did confused me up until now, when pieces started to click. She hated Edgar Allen Poe but loved him once upon a time, until Joe escaped the first time. Something told me she had something to do with Joe Carroll but I thought maybe it was just because she had this undying love for EAP that was devastated and ripped apart by the disrespect she thought was shown by the killings.

But the note she got, that read 'I know you're alive.'. What the hell was that? I shoved the cup in my pocket and pulled out my phone, and dialed Ryans number.

First ring he answered, "Ryan, I know you told me not to follow the girl, but I did. We need to talk, I think shes in trouble…"

_"Weston. We have bigger problems than that."_

I stopped and laughed slightly "What problems other than Mark? Joe's locked up. I mean mark and Korbin being brou-"

_"Joe escaped again Weston."_

I froze.

"What?"


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

I tore my apartment up as soon as I was in the door. I cleaned out every drawer, shelf, container. I pulled my duffle out from under my bed and shoved my clothes in on top of the cash and gun I already left in there, I looked through my ID's and shoved the one in my pocket that was closest to resembling my newly dyed red short cut hair, that I did in the midst of everything else.

I avoided the stairs and punched the button on the elevator, pulling my hood over my face and began to impatiently tap my leg. When the doors opened I ducked my head down and slid in, next to the girl who worked at the coffee shop. She stepped out into the hall, not noticing me as the doors closed. This was a small victory for me. If I could leave the building fast enough maybe I could avoid this situation for good.

I took my cell phone out of my pocket and scrolled through the messages.

_I'm at the Hotel. -Mike_

I sighed and tapped the phone impatiently as I attempted to wave down a Taxi. I walked down the sidewalk and kept my head down, it was at least five blocks to the hotel. Three Taxis drove past. By the fourth one, I gave up, and I walked, I turned down an alley, hoping that if I cut through and went around, coffee girl wouldn't catch up with me.

It took me about 30 minutes to make it to the hotel, and as soon as I stepped foot into the lobby, I was greeted by no other than Weston and Ryan who were standing and looked more than impatient. I quickly checked in and grabbed my room key and walked out, leaving them to follow.

"Hey." I felt a warm hand on my shoulder as Weston's voice cut through my frantic thoughts. I stopped and looked at him.

"Are we gonna talk?"

I stood there for a second and sighed and shook my hands. "Yeah. Did you get the lid tested?"

"Yes. He did." Ryan cut in and stepped up next to him.

I stood there and then slid out two of the room keys and handed one to both of them. "Let me at least get to where I was intending to go before we start this conversation."

_"Its sad to hear you are leaving, Alica. The lab work you did seemed to be your forte in life. You were really good at it."_

_I smiled as I grabbed my last box of stuff._

_"Yeah, but moving just seemed right, you know? And the downsized job just suits me. I will still be doing lab work."_

_"__Its a shame, I am sure they would have called you in to work on some of the new Joe Carroll stuff, since the video tape and all. They were needing lab techs from all around."_

_"Yeah, I am upset I'm going to miss that, I could have probably gotten a promotion and began work with the CIA"_

_Exactly the conversation I was trying to avoid, yet here it was, happening._

_"I bet you could have. Anyways, good luck to you and your sister. Has your roommate replaced you?"_

_I smiled, half glad this conversation was drawing to a close, "Yeah, quickly replaced me with her boyfriend. All is well."_

_"Good. Good luck to you Alica."_

_Who knew I would need it._

I sat on the bed while Ryan and Mike stood before me. How did one explain how they knew they were about to be poisoned, or that the officer that was questioning them would be as well.

I spoke softly and quietly, "Any questions?..."

Ryan spoke "Yeah, how did you know the damned cups would have Aconite in them or be laced with something. And exactly who knows you're alive."

"Because of the note… That's How I knew it would most likely be laced with something, unless they planned on just taunting me."

Ryan sat and Weston rubbed his head before speaking softly "Who is '_They'_?"

"Joe Carroll's cult." my voice cracked and l looked at my lap and fidgeted with my fingers.

Ryan got up and and cursed under his breath and Weston just stared at me blankly, but somehow he didn't look surprised.

"I have no affiliation with them other than if they are going to shed anyone's blood it would be mine."

Ryan spoke softly "And why is that?"

I shook my head and no matter how hard I tried i couldn't stop the tears. "It's a long story…"

"Goddammit just say it!" Weston held him back and muttered something about calming down and I gripped the bed.

"Joe is my biological father."

Both of them stopped and stared for a minute. Confusion, anger, resentment, empathy, sympathy, flashed across there eyes and faces.

It made me feel disgusting. Like I was an outcast, something i desperately tried to avoid being.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? Why wouldn't you tell anyone? Someone can protect you, seriously someone could have and will protect you."

"How often has that really worked? Not very. I stole I.D.s and did my best to make them bounce around so no one would find out. I moved back here before the second time he escaped, and attempted to get out of town as soon as possible. I didn't want to risk being seen. But I knew Luke from school…. he must have mentioned something about me to Joe, done his research…. I haven't been able to leave. I have only been able to keep my head low."

"You can leave you are choosing not to. Why?" Weston looked more upset that angry now, however Ryan couldn't seem to contain his rage

Despite the tears my voice came to me in a steady manner. "I wanted to kill all of them…"

"All of whom, Alica?"

"Joe, Mark, Luke, any of his followers. I personally wanted to kill them."

"Why?"

I stood and pulled off my shirt, not even fully aware of what I was doing until I was done, I just stood there and watched as they stared at me, Weston looked away, Ryan looked down and covered his mouth and gagged.

"Why wouldn't I."


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Weston's P.O.V.

Me and Ryan stood outside, with tension in the air so thick, I could hardly breath.

"Who did this to you."

"Joe did, then Mark and Luke."

Ryan pulled me outside when I had started pacing, saying how I would kill him as she pulled her shirt on and slipped away silently into the bathroom.

How could she even look at herself, she looked like she was a rope that had been twisted so tight that it refused to come unwound. The scars covered scars that covered scars, somewhere burns, others were cut, how she seemed almost completely normal baffled me, and it explained why she was so compelled to behave the way she did if it meant escape and hopefully patiently awaited revenge.

She wasn't faking it. Me and Ryan both agreed on that, she had never been loved, only hated, and it compelled her to survive rather than to live. She was filled with anger and resentment to those that made her, molded her, and shaped her into the being she was, and caused the distrust in everyone around her.

She was broken, but for longer than me, but Ryan could possibly relate to that anger and resentment. She sat in the room now, the three of us separated in a bitter silence of this new-found discovery due to her finally being caught.

"She was a FBI lab tech, left the second time Carroll escaped." Ryans words cut through my thoughts but never made me take my gaze off her.

"Anything else when you looked up her real name."

"Her mother was murdered. One of Joe's first unknown victims, most likely. Mom was obsessed with witchcraft and Poe, named her Annabell Lee Carroll to please Joe and stroke his obsession with him as well. Personally I thought this Poe shit was over. Shes been a FBI agent in more than one state, under more than one name, yet she does have a real degree and certification to do so. She has even done criminal profiling and taught some classes. As much as she isn't legit, a lot of her is as well."

I watched her as she turned on the T.V.

Shit.

"She doesn't know Joe escaped again…"

Fuck me. I walked over the door and slid the card in.

Nothing. Three more times. Nothing. Then it finally clicked. Fucking cheap ass hotels.

Ryan and me walked in as she sat, the color drained from her face and the news anchor continued, "Joe Carroll escaped from prison this afternoon, managing to kill 12 guards before leaving the highly patrolled complex. His whereabouts still remain unknown at this time."

She sat here then rested her chin on her hands and watched.

"What intrigued most people was the poem he left, which we have been given the okay on to publicly release. The poem read

_Twisted corpse_  
_Bloody Kin_  
_What once was beauty_  
_Is now just sin_

_Mangled Flesh_  
_Ugly Scars_  
_From those past wars_  
_She lives again_

_Beautiful Darkness_  
_Haunting Past_  
_She will soon know_  
_How long she really has_

_Annabell Lee_  
_The Raven Crows_  
_Tormented and Mangled_  
_And sent to hell below_

_This tale is yet complete_  
_for there is one more twist_  
_Ryan Hardy_  
_Is still the first on my list_

_With his burden_  
_and all of his despair_  
_My sweet darling_  
_Will weaken without care_

_Attached will he be_  
_especially when he sees_  
_My darling, sweet darling_  
_Annabell Lee."_

She clicked the T.V. off and then just sat there shaking slightly, I was frozen in place as I watched her when she whispered softly "You two should go."

"No."

Ryans voice shocked me to the core, the authority was back in his voice like it never had been before. She looked at him and glared "Its clear that we both die if we stay together."

"Exactly, chances are he wants us to split up, apparently he somehow knows we have found you."

"Yet he thinks you are going to get attached to protecting me."

"Then Weston will. Weston and Max both"

I just stood there as she placed her hands on her hips and growled softly "Leave."

"Take the protection or I will arrest you. Custody will protect you just as much as anything." My own voice shocked me, yet the danger she was in was clear.

"Arrest me for what?" She was getting angry, but it was clear she knew she was fighting a losing battle.

"Identity Theft, false I.D.s, lying to a police officer, shall I continue?"

She rubbed her face, looked frustrated and angry as she stared at the black screen.

"Do I get to help find Joe?"

"Im sure we could work something out."

"If I agree to this protection, and it works out ending with I don't get to help. Just take me to custody."

I sighed and Ryan stood there, as the silent tension overshadowed the room once more.

Finally I spoke, "We should get moving."


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

I tensed as soon as I walked into the house. Another girl was there.

Another girl was in here.

This was to be a disaster.

Me and females never got along, I played too rough, the only girl I got along with my my very close foster sister. Her parents abused us. Then she was murdered, due to me failing to be able to protect her.

Still, she sauntered up to me grinning slightly before reaching to shake my hand "This is so exciting... Ryan called and told me about you."

I scowled. She was the woman that wrote that stupid book, and read the poem on T.V.

"So he wrote that poem for you, I'm guessing?"

She was already asking questions? What. The. Fuck. Like I wasn't irritated, worried, scared, and pissed off enough already. If I could describe myself, it would be a time bomb that's ticking with only minutes to spare.

If she planned on getting under my skin and making me answer the silly little questions she had, she had another thing coming. Judas Priest and lots of yelling.

Weston hit me in my arm when I growled and nearly spat something back and then answered "Eyan is getting me some files and then i'm taking her to my place and keeping her there under protective custody from Joe. She shouldn't answer any questions."

Suddenly, another girl walked in, long brown hair, brown eyes, long legs. Fuck me I was uncomfortable.

I saw her eyes light up when she saw Weston and then immediately die when she saw me.

God Damn it, she thought I was trouble. I could tell. I shrugged lifted my shirt and put it down. She relaxed. I was ugly, good for me. Score one for her. Weston frowned as the Carrie Cook lady continued to chat behind the bar.

The other girl walked over and extended her arm out to me "Hi, Im Max."

I kept my hands in my pockets and spoke softly "I'm Alica. Nice to meet you, Max." As much as I didn't feel it, the face security in my voice, sounded better than I anticipated, but my actions said otherwise.

She wrapped her arms around Weston and I raised my eyes brows and did my best to give her my _I couldnt give a shit if I tried _look, but she still gave a positive squeeze. Weston looked irritated. and shoved her away.

Apparently this had happened before.

Ryan walked in and frowned at Max, and Weston flashed an apologetic smile. Westons attraction to her and hers to him seemed to be torn and squished down into nothing but a unwanted and forced platonic friendship. between them.

Ryan stepped in between them and handed Weston the files and spoke briefly with him before looking at everyone in the room.

"According to me, you never saw her, and you," He pointed at me "You never saw or met them. However here is a phone with everyones number in this room including a few others for emergency purposes only. Give me your old phone."

"Not until -"

"No old contacts, Alica."

He made me feel younger than 25. I pulled my phone out of my pocket and handed it to him. He automatically pulled out the sim card and handed it to Max who glared at Weston, then me, and promptly walked away.

"Indoors, all times. Call if you guys need anything, and I will call with any information and ways you and her can help."

Weston nodded and we slowly walked out, leaving the quiet loft behind us.

As we walked out of the complex I practiced forcing myself to relax, I had my reasons for not like women worse than not liking men. There obsession with materialistic lifestyles and money, possessiveness, and there brutally fake loving nature fooled everyone, even me.

In some ways I was thankful that Joe killed my mother, it stopped her from using me and him for money, sex, and anything else she could think of. Her obsession with him was not love, but she expressed it in such manner that fooled Joe until he caught her cheating.

In other ways I couldn't help but love my mother, most likely due to her not always needing me, but actually sometimes wanting me in her life, even for the few moments occurred. Sometimes and twisted as it sounds I wished I could find the same sliver of compassion for Joe, and sometimes I can, but when someone torments you like that and shows no compassion for you, how can you bother trying to find it back.

I sat in the front seat of the car, and Weston got in on the drivers side "So, Agent Weston…"

He smiled slightly "I told you at the coffee shop to call me Mike."

"You were pissed at me."

"Cats out of the bag now. Don't really have anything to be angry at. I still want to know the complete story, though. My curiosity with you has yet to be satisfied when it comes to you."

"I can tell you what I remember over a burger. Ill even buy."

He frowned slightly "What you remember?..."

I shook my head "Can we just get something to eat before I start explaining myself to death?"

He nodded, and suddenly, I realized how tired I was. And anything after that, Is nothing but the blackness behind my eyelids.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

I woke in the smell of lavender on the soft sheets that where under me. I didn't remember eating, and it was apparent I hadn't, due to my stomach giving a loud audible growl. I groaned and sat up and looked around.

the room was large, had to be the master bedroom. I got up, still in last nights clothes as i peeled off my shirt and strolled into the bathroom. I sighed and rubbed my face before turning and looking at myself in the mirror.

The scars were never knew, but it was still hard not to look. It was hard not to stare. It was also hard for me not to hate myself. I was a live, mangled corpse, whose story was worn on my skin, rather than barred a memory I could keep to myself.

It caused me emotional pain more than it ever had caused me physical. Men were not attracted to me because of it, I looked more like a alien than I ever would a woman. Most of them were on my abdomen and back, overlapping and twisted, some big and some small. Something that should and normally only would be seen in a horror film, only it wouldn't be a innocent bearing these scars, but a monster.

I leaned over the sink and turned on the water, splashing it across my face and running my fingers through my hair. I felt some of the water trickle and bead as it ran down my neck, and I grabbed the hand towel that was folded neatly on the sink and dried off.

Again I was engulfed in the soft scent of lavender, and I felt myself relax even more. I stood there and looked at myself for a long time, before reaching behind me and brushing my fingers along the top of a scar that I couldn't remember.

It was a good inch wide, and ran all the way down my spine, and unlike the others, was physically painful to bare.

I eventually learned to ignore the pain, but never the scar itself.

This scar was what caused the nightmares to haunt me, it was what caused me to remember only blood and pain from whatever happened.

Blood, pain, and Joe. I knew that it was Joe that did this to me.

I slipped my shirt back on over my head and walked back into the bedroom, and found to bags, stuffed to the brim with clothes.

I ignored the bags and chose my own stuff and walked out of the room a good 30 minutes later, having out on my own pair of clean pair of black worn skinny jeans and a loose grey tank top, paired with black converse that had to be over a century old.

I strolled in the kitchen with curiosity and hunger, and stopped at the sound of Weston's voice and Ryan's.

"So he just disappeared, but there is no doubt that he is looking for Alica. So we protect her and ourselves by staying out and having others look for him? No. Not going to happen. We are all in this together, they can't just push us to the side because Joe threatened us for god knows how many times now."

"Yeah well, he is stuck back on Poe because Annabell happens to be his unfinished work, kinda like his novel in the beginning, apparently he isn't going to let Poe go and move on the other crude path he was going down like we originally thought."

Weston's voice sounded strained and sickly amused with his next thought "He would be moving on if he hadn't learned about Alica. Have we ever considered that this cult is bigger than we can think? Or stop? Alica has been running since she can remember. She developed a system of IDs that bounced around off one another. If that doesn't raise red flags I don't know what does anymore."

I stepped around the corner and watched as Ryan stood there his face downcast and tired, and he looked much older than beyond his years.

Something I didn't recognize in someone who had taught me a lot of what I knew about Joe Carroll when he was declared dead well over a year ago.

_"Joe was a romantic, he believed that what he created in his killings was a piece of art, that it conveyed a message, and that message was?"_

_I spoke, not even thinking, my stomach still in knots, and my hair was sticking to my face due to me nervously sweating. _

_"He thought that, using Poe and…. metaphors to Poe, or recreating some of these stories, created some Beautiful. He thought that there was beauty in death."_

_Ryan's eyes met mine, cold and hard, almost as if he wasn't expecting someone to know, or that we weren't supposed to know, his eyes never left mine, "That's all for the day."_

Ryan turned and saw me, his blue eyes giving that same hard state as he stopped, his eyes never moved from mine. Weston turned and looked at me also.

I folded my arms across my chest and spoke "Joe won't give up on finding me. The reason he is back on Poe now is because Poe had unfinished work, his work is unfinished, and sadly I happen to be part of that... _Unfinished work._ I part of his hardly humble beginning, and according to what I was able to dig up on myself, I'm lucky to even be part of his second chapter in his adventure with Poe."

Weston sighed and rubbed his face and then spoke softly "You look like you were lucky..."

I felt my face pinch up slightly as if I was trying not to cry or I was about to get angry, but rather all I felt was an all to common ache in my chest as I sighed "I should have died."

Ryan looked at me and Weston both and grunted "I think that we all have that one thing in common."

I snickered and Weston followed, and Ryan grinned, as if it was a private and deadly joke that we all shared.

I stepped forward and laughed slightly and spoke "So how do we find Joe?"

"Well right now, I'm having to work my ass off on the FBI not putting protective custody on all three of us, and that shouldn't be hard. Considering last time me and Weston began working with the CIA on tracking Joe on our own. Since we are part of that lovely little Private Investigator team, it shouldn't be too hard to do."

Weston spoke "It's just a matter of when they will get the FBI to back off."

"Also, the whole U.S. Is looking for you. Which means, we turn you over to the CIA or you stay low. You going into protective custody is as important as Claire and Joey being in it as well. Especially considering Joes new favorite Target seems to be you."

I frowned "Turn me over to the CIA?"

Weston looked at me and spoke softly "It's only part of the plan. Ryan has a plan on handing you over, and then telling them we need you and your help. His new boss is more willing to let him do and get what he needs knowing he has stopped Joe two times now. You won't be inactive in helping very long."

"If you turn me over, they find out about the IDs, and I'm automaticly a criminal."

"Max is already on that." Ryan placed an orange envelope on the table and smiled. "She took your little ID network down, and got you three new legally approved IDs, all in that folder, and the CIA and FBI have both been notified of it, considering it's for your own good."

"It's still illegal, and I have never heard of this before. It seems like something that would never happen."

"I convinced people to bend the rules, for your sake. And ours." Ryan stepped away and rubbed the bridge of his nose before sighing. "I need to go, and get this whole thing sorted out before Joe is two steps ahead and we are fifteen steps behind. You two sit tight, and Weston, i am sending Max and Carrie over later, considering Max is a huge help and Carrie is officially under witness protection as well, they need to be filled in."

Weston nodded, and I merely felt reclusive and tempted to go hid at the thought, after I had food.

We all said our goodbyes and Weston followed Ryan to the door.

"You two stay put."

Weston smiled "Don't worry, we will."

As he shut the door he turned and looked at me and smiled softly. "I am guessing you are probably really hungry."

I couldn't stop myself from smiling back and giggling slightly "I am starving."


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"A guy that can cook. You never fail to impress." Max leaned back in her chair and I picked at my food, to uncomfortable to even eat.

I did not enjoy human contact. I never had, possibly due to me growing up in a state of isolation, all social situations did was terrify me, especially when it came to other women. My thought process was completely different than theirs, closer to a guys and straight forward rather than confusing and bipolar even mother nature came around once a month.

The way she kept glaring at me also.

I was nothing but a threat. That's all I would ever be, anyways, but adding people to the list was the last thing I wanted to do. I could tell Mike noticed as well as Carrie, but they merely chatted with Max ignoring my death stare I gave back every time.

Why she thought I was going after Weston was her problem, yet I still wanted to know why, because any time I was around she gave me this dirty look that in truth made me want to fuck up her face.

Weston spoke "So Ryan wanted me to fill you guys in on the situation with Joe."

I spoke up "I like how you say situation like it can be handled easily, Weston. Its case, not just a situation."

"I told you you could call me Mike."

Max got as close as she could to him and spoke softly "It fine, she can call you Weston."

I attempted to hold back my tongue but I dropped my fork on my half eaten plate of eggs and spoke up softly and bitterly "What the fuck is your problem with me, Max? Does it really fucking matter? When I was told about you, what little information I was given, you seemed like a straight laced person, not some pussy bitch who can't handle another girl around her guy."

She glared "You came out of no where, and you keep giving him these looks..."

"Its called my fucking face, I don't give anyone any type of look."

Weston finally stepped in, shoving Max gently away from him, before Max could fire back at him to defend her, or just another crude comment at me "Both of you stop. As much as I enjoy this, we have bigger '_fucking'_ issues to deal with. Save it for later. The looks. Everything."

I growled and stood, and left the room, ignoring Carries and Max's murmurs of agreement behind me.

A pillow hit me in my face, knocking me out of my mid-day nap. Who hit me with the pillow was no other than Weston, looking more than pissed.

His was past the _Who pissed in my oatmeal _pissed, he looked like he was about to strangle the nearest person, witch would be no one other than me.

Finally when it was clear enough to him I was awake, he spoke "What the hell?"

"Tiny man is angry."

Again, I was hit with the pillow, and gave a umphf sound as I fell backwards from my sitting position.

"I am not Max's 'guy', I just had to finish explaining that to her for like the 200th time. We shared a kiss, she can't break up with her boyfriend, shes not my type of girl."

I frowned and sat up "You shared a kiss, and its obvious she fucking likes you, asswipe. Why she won't break up with her boyfriend is her problem, along with whatever reason she hates me. I don't take shit like that, and that's my problem, not something you should care or worry about."

"Yeah well I liked her until I learned she hadn't broken up with her current boyfriend."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"Well under the circumstances, its not like I have anyone else to talk to."

"I am not your friend, this seems like Ryan territory. Can't you text him or something?"

He attempted to hit me with the pillow again, but I caught and swung back, hitting him hard enough to have him cussing slightly and make him wobble. As he jerked the pillow away from me "Ryan is busy."

"Sounds like a problem."

"Can you stop being a smart ass for two minutes?"

"I'm not the moody one, you were kind when you met me, pissed off when I lied, curious, then all shits and giggles last night bringing me here, now you are right back to pissed off again. You are being bipolar as fuck, and you know, they have _medication _to help with that."

He stood there in silence before lunging as me, I swiftly rolled out of the bed, the whole process happened in slow motion for me, and I was up in a crouch within seconds, defenses up within seconds.

then I realized that he was laughing.

He was laughing.

He was fucking laughing.

I stood up, more tense than I had been in forever, watching as he sat up. "I had to try it. I wasn't expecting you to be that fast."

I scowled "What the fuck is wrong with you."

"I could ask the same thing about you." He smiled softly.

"Was that all an act?"

"Just the last part."

"Why?" I found myself turning redder with anger by the minute.

"It was just the way you blocked then counter attacked so quickly, I wanted to see if you evade also."

"The way you pull shit Weston makes no sense to be. You are a fucking weirdo." I was getting ready to stomp out of the room when I felt a hand on my arm gently turn me to face him.

"I told you to call me Mike, and I am serious about Max. I thought there was something there, but there wasn't. And the way she acts around you is just too weird. It honestly bugs me. She was really straight laced and mature before I kissed her, and a good friend. Kinda in the process in regretting the kiss at the moment."

I stood there in silence, momentarily allowing myself to get lost in his eyes, before looking away hoping the red that I felt in my cheeks was still from anger and not from embarrassment. I tugged my arm out of his hands and looked away.

He pointed to the bags at the end of the bed "I took your clothes and gave Ryan your size, it got Carrie to stop bugging him, she, unlike Max, likes you. Jeans, T's, Underwear, and god knows what else. Might just want to make yourself at home, you will probably be here for awhile."

I nodded "Thanks, I guess."

"Well, get dressed. I still owe you a burger."

I wanted to protest, but he was out the door and had shut it before I could say anything.

I didn't know whether to feel aggravated or confused about him. I didn't know how I felt about him at all.


End file.
